


Newer

by chaotism



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, F/M, M/M, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-05-19 17:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19361704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaotism/pseuds/chaotism
Summary: Nights on the dance floor seem endless, but his comes to an abrupt halt when faced with a dilemma that he doesn’t quite understand. He loves her like nothing else, but she’s also always gone. And yet, here he is swaying in a man’s arms and feeling like he’s home.In which Bertholdt tries to keep a low profile, but struggles with his feelings. He loves Annie, but Reiner’s holding him like no-one else ever has.





	Newer

**Author's Note:**

> A/N; this story has been edited by yours truly, but if there are any grammatical/spelling errors, please do let me know in the comments so i can get them fixed asap. thank you! as well, i am not the rightful owner of these characters. they belong to the creator of attack on titan; Hajime Isayama.
> 
>  
> 
> —mainly inspired by [this song](https://youtu.be/av5JD1dfj_c).
> 
> —you can also find me at my tumblr [here](https://quietloss.tumblr.com/) for updates and just me crying over Bertholdt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ; Bertholdt often has a hard time with Annie leaving so often, but all the reassurance he needs is a few words sealed with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N; and so, the first chapter is finally finished and edited (hopefully). please feel free to leave feedback and kudos if you enjoyed the story so far!

 

"You're going out again?"

"You know I don't have a choice. I got called in, but didn't want to tell you."

There's a harsh, exasperated sigh from within the shower. 

"It probably would have been better if you'd told me. I made plans."

She doesn't reply. He can see her putting on makeup in the mirror. Foundation, concealer, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, and then her blood-red lipstick. He doesn't comment. He knows that she's already made her mind up, and anything he says is going in one ear and right out the other. It doesn't matter that he had a surprise date night planned because she has better things to do, apparently. Those red lips used to be only his to kiss, but now he's not so sure. Yes, he trusts her, but she's out so often. He misses her. His eyes stay on her as he continues to mindlessly lather shampoo in his hair, originally preparing to get all nice for her, but now he's just taking his time. There's no rush. She probably won't be home until early in the morning, and he'll make her breakfast only to get told that she has to leave again in a couple of hours. It grew tiring after so long. 

It's not that she doesn't love him. He knows that. It's just become so incredibly frustrating anymore because she gives him the side of her that the rest of the world is blind to, but it never lasts. He gets to see her when she's soft or sleepy or eager. At least, that's what he used to see, anyway. Now, she's just as stoic to him as she is to everyone else. He doesn't want that; he's never wanted that. Her smiles have become as rare as they are to the damned paparazzi, and he wants to be her safe space. She doesn't seem to care. It's been voiced to her on many occasions, but she'd simply dismiss him with a quiet, "I don't have time for this right now." She never has time. 

She's a model. She's an actress. She's a movie star. 

Him? He's an author.

He's not known for his books, but only for his scandalous relationship with Annie Leonhardt. 

The news always has a way of turning their lives into a game for the public.

 _Such a successful actress in love with a meek author?_  

_What does he have to offer her?_

_I have some normality to offer her amidst this chaos_ , Bertholdt thinks to himself, taking a step back in the shower to let the water rinse out his hair. He has his own appeal, but that's not enough for the reporters constantly demanding every detail of their relationship. He's handsome, but he's not  _Hollywood_ handsome. The realization has hit him a multitude of times, but it never hurts less. He's never been good with judgment, and he even calls himself a crybaby when someone decides to comment on his social media that he's not a good enough match for her. As if he doesn't know that already without someone pointing it out to him on the daily. She's just so  _flawless_ to him, and he knows that she isn't perfect, but she's perfect enough for him. Even now, he can't help but stare at her back as she's facing the mirror that practically takes up the entire wall. Her short, blue dress hugs her in all the right ways along with her untouched pale skin that contrasts so nicely with the dark colors she often wears. Her hair is almost always pulled up, but he's been lucky enough to see it down in a casual setting. He considers himself very honored to be with someone like her, and he's perpetually wondering what draws her to him.

He's ordinary at best.

"You're gorgeous," he murmurs. She turns to face the shower. The shower wall is clear, but it's textured in diamonds to make everything appear more geometrical without obvious detail. He still loves looking at her. She never fails looks so nice in the bathroom lighting—it emphasizes every part of her body, and he loves that. He loves getting to see the parts of her that are always covered with makeup. He feels privileged to get to know the parts of her body that aren’t on the covers of magazines. Every freckle, every blemish, every dark spot; he adores it all. 

Bertholdt has been self-conscious his entire life. 

Annie’s never been open with her affections by mouth, but her touch is enough to reassure him of her love. She has the appearance of a porcelain doll, but she’s so sure with everything she does. She’s such a mystery. 

"Sometimes I think you’re delusional.” He can see her smile, and he smiles back. The shower turns off, and silence fills the room. It’s not awkward like it used to be, but simply just calm and serene. He reaches up to grab a towel hanging over the top and quickly dries his face and hair. Sliding open the shower door, she’s already there. His hand raises to hold her cheek, pulling her in for a kiss that was supposed to be brief. 

She’s cold and fierce whilst he’s warm and patient. He’s in no hurry, but she kisses him like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do. The towel he was previously using was in a rumpled pile on the floor, and soon both of his hands are cradling her face. His tongue teases between her lips, but she has things to do.

Things that aren’t him.  

"I have to go." There’s a soft, breathy chuckle that emits from rosy lips when Annie pulls away. God, she’s always leaving him floundering like she was made to do so. It drives him crazy. _She_ drives him crazy. 

"You have your key, right?" he asks, still a bit breathless. She nods, moving to grab her jacket off the back of the vanity chair. Her lipstick is a tad smudged, and Bertholdt’s smile transitions into something rather smug. It’s just so pleasing to know that he’s the only one allowed to do that to her. She drives him crazy, but he knows that he does just the same to her whether she admits it or not.  

So, the surprise date idea didn’t work out. A disappointment, but he still had her attention for longer than anticipated. That’s a reward in itself. _This isn’t forever_ , he reminds himself. _We have all the time in the world._

"If the lights are still on when you get back, call me," he tells her as she begins rifling through her purse.  

"Don’t stay up too late waiting," she replies, just as commanding as she is soft. She worries about him overworking himself—the damned insomniac—but he never seems to mind his nonexistent sleep schedule. 

As usual, he wants to tell her not to worry, but she’s out the door without another word. A draft from the door closing reminds Bertholdt of his towel on the floor, and he hastily snatches it back up, drying off the rest of his body that still felt pleasantly cool from his lover’s touch. 

 

* * *

 

The night goes by slowly. Bertholdt doesn’t anxiously await her arrival like he used to, but instead just calmly attends to himself. He does all of his own work despite having endless offers for editors and publishers. He doesn’t want to just leech off of Annie for his own popularity. He strives to make a reputation for himself of being independent because he’s not that kind of boyfriend. She’s not that kind of girlfriend either, and they each do their own things without pressure from the other. Sure, Bertholdt doesn’t like it when she constantly has to go out for work, but he doesn’t force her to stay home. And, Annie doesn’t necessarily like when Bertholdt is up at 2AM editing his own work, but she doesn’t force him to come back to bed (though she’s pondered it more than once).

They don’t police one another. Although the media makes it hard, they do trust each other unconditionally. Bertholdt has been the victim of many rumors, but it didn’t bother Annie in the slightest. She knows he’s not the type to cheat, and he knows that she loves him. They’re rarely seen out in public together, and Annie decided a long time ago that it was best for her boyfriend to stay behind for big events despite how much he wished to accompany her. 

They’ve known each other since high school—before all the pressures of adult life. Bertholdt was a quiet nerd who studied English religiously while Annie was a theatre kid who never put up with anyone’s bullshit. Bertholdt’s always seen her acting as a coping mechanism. She’s never been one to be vehement, so he guesses that acting is a way for her to show emotion without having to deal with the potential consequences. She can be someone else up on stage. Bertholdt himself lives for reading and writing because he can also pretend. 

In a way, they both wish they weren’t themselves.

They both find some kind of solace in each other with their similar ways of dealing with too much stress. 

It’s about a quarter to four in the morning when Bertholdt hears Annie’s ringtone from his phone that’s across the room. Quite frankly half-asleep, he gets up from his desk and lumbers over to grab his cell. 

"You’re still up?” Is the first thing he’s greeted with after clicking the ‘accept call’ button and putting the phone to his ear. He nearly nods, but quickly realizes that he’s on the phone. 

”Yeah, I am. Couldn’t sleep.”

”You always say that.”

He makes a sound akin to a hum as he leaves their bedroom and goes downstairs to the front door. She ends the call as he opens the door and then proceeds to shove his phone into his pocket. She looks tired, but her beauty hasn’t aged a second. She stands on her tip-toes to brush her lips across his jaw before passing him to get inside. He feels somewhat delirious from lack of sleep, but her gesture doesn’t go unappreciated. Shutting the door and locking it, he follows her back upstairs to their room. 

They sleep in until 8AM when Bertholdt is roused by someone calling him. He reaches over to the nightstand, unplugging his phone from the charger and picking up. The number isn’t recognizable at first glance. 

"Is this Bertholdt Hoover?” 

"Yes, it is. How may I help you?" His voice is rough with sleep, and he struggles to untangle himself from the heavy comforter. Hurrying to the bathroom with only his boxers on to avoid waking Annie, he’s wondering silently if this is another editing or publication offer. "And, if I may ask, how did you get this number? I have a business email for inquiries regarding my—" 

"This will only take a moment. I have your number from Ms. Leonhardt. Has she informed you of the upcoming event?" 

"Uh, no, she hasn’t."

”A banquet. She will need you to be her escort. She told me she would inform you as soon as possible."

Bertholdt pauses, feeling like this is some kind of scam, but he’s also using a private number. He supposes he could ask Annie about it later. "Yeah, well she didn’t get home until early this morning, and she needed sleep. When is this banquet?" 

"This coming weekend; the eighth."

"I-I apologize, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to show. Annie and I made a mutual agreement to keep our relationship under wraps, and attending a banquet with her would probably go against both of our best interests. I hope you can understand, and she’ll still be able to—"

"This is not optional."

"Oh . . . Well, thank you for telling me,” he says in a small voice, quickly hanging up the phone on impulse. Sighing, he sets his phone down on the sink counter. He doesn’t want to wake her up, but he really does wish she had told him about this. Or, better yet, he was given more notice originally. He hasn’t been anywhere formal since the beginning of their relationship, and that flopped horribly, which is why neither of them want a repeat.

Leaving his phone, Bertholdt shuffles back into their bedroom. It’s cold, and he already misses the troublesome comforter that keeps him from getting up on time. Annie’s laid on her stomach, cheek resting on her pillow with her arm splayed beside her in a loose fist. Her hair is in a bun, but messy from being slept on, and she’s only wearing a sports bra and shorts. The blanket covers her lower half. Bertholdt watches groggily as her body rhythmically rises and falls with each breath. 

She really is a goddess. 

Even exhausted. Even messy. Just _casual_ things are enough for him to realize how beautiful and extraordinary she is. 

Crawling back into bed, Bertholdt tugs the blanket back over himself and rolls over to wrap an arm around her. Her skin is cold, but he swears a ghost of smile appears on those pale lips before it’s gone again. Did she smile? He’s going to assume she did, and he can’t help but lean close to lightly kiss those lips.

They sleep in undisturbed until noon that day.


End file.
